“Where are we going?” I ask as he tugs me along behind him. There’s no need for us to hide away now, although I do have to trot to keep up with his pace.
“The Great Hall,” he explains. “It’s the oldest part of the academy. It’s also the center of the campus. I don’t know how I never saw that before.”
“Saw what?”
“The layout of the academy. It’s star-shaped, with the Great Hall right in its center.”
I shake my head. “Fox, what are you talking about? The academy isn’t star-shaped at all.”
“Not now,” he says. “Not with the modern buildings that have been added – the shadow weaver clinic, some of the newer towers. But the ancient ones, the old ones, they form a star.”
I frown even harder. “I still can’t see it.”
“Some of the old towers were demolished,” he explains, “to make room for the new buildings. Before that, they formed a perfect star shape, with the Great Hall at the very center. It’s the center of this place, where the magic is at its most powerful.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’m still not sure how that means we’re going to activate it, but I’m happy for you to keep pulling me along.”
Professor Cornelius and Clare are waiting for us inside the Great Hall, lit with a thousand candles, far brighter than I’ve ever seen it before, its colorful glazed windows flickering in the light. For the first time, it looks a lot less creepy and spooky and in its way, kind of beautiful with its rising pillars and vaulted ceiling.
“Here she is,” Fox says, depositing me in front of the other two.
“I don’t exactly know what you want me to do,” I mutter
Clare cradles a book in her hands, her recovered-glasses perched on the end of her nose. She tips back her head in an attempt to right them, but it doesn’t work. She huffs in frustration and, shifting the book awkwardly to her left arm, points to a spot in the center of the Great Hall with her right.
“I think you need to stand here.”
“Me?”
“Of course you,” she says with a little irritation, prodding her finger impatiently.
I step where she’s indicated, peering down at the ground. There’s nothing that marks this spot as any more important than any other.
“Why here?” I ask.
“If what I’ve read is correct,” she says, “and who knows, this book was written by shadow weavers,” she tuts in disapproval, “this is where one of the first firestones was discovered. I think that means this is where the magic is at its most powerful.”
“Can you feel it?” Fox asks, his eagerness reflected in Professor Cornelius’s old eyes.
I’m guessing this is what happens when you allow a bunch of nerds to indulge their innermost geekiness.
“I don’t know,” I say, shuffling on the spot and then closing my eyes.
Is it my imagination, or does my magic seem to tingle? Of course, that could just be because Fox is standing only a few paces away from me, and his proximity has always done funny things to my body.
“She might not be able to feel it yet,” Professor Cornelius ponders, “because it hasn’t been awakened. Miss Watson, do you have the spell we copied down?”
“Yes,” Clare says, lowering the heavy book to the ground and pulling a scroll of paper from her pocket. She unfolds it, her eyes roaming hungrily over the words scribbled in her own handwriting. She thrusts it out to me. “It took us a while to find it, but we think these are the words you need to say.”
I stare down at them. “This is in the old language,” I say, my cheeks heating with my own ignorance. “I can’t read them.”
“Oh,” Clare says. “Did you never learn?”
I look up from the paper and give her a hard stare.
“Right,” she says. “Slate Quarter. I forgot.”
“Could you read them to me and I can repeat them back?” I ask.
